there's no proof of you!
dreams about Bourek ≠ good mental health. ah, you know.
i got a lot of sleep last night for the first time in days, remember my eyes opening at 4, then 5:30, then 8, and finally getting up at 9:30, showering, and going to class. rain all weekend and i'm really getting quite worried about my roof, it's flat and there's nowhere for the water to go.
i watched Sedmikrásky and The Joke yesterday and the day before. Sedmikrásky was lovely, colorful and silly, with beautiful girls. The Joke was, really, not so great. nothing added to the book; all the revealing subplots were cut out, so the non-linear Kundera style became unnecessary and confusing. and there wasn't enough Jaroslav in it, and Helena wasn't the way she should have been. all the same, the scene where he says he doesn't love her is very, very important, and the concept of Helena is very important [in my collection of archetypes, i mean]. i remember reading an article once about the best misogynistic books, and after just reading the headline i thought "well, Kundera, naturally," and of course The Joke was mentioned, with a sentence like "this is very cruel stuff, but a fascinating novel".
probably there's some mention of Kundera in every second entry i write. there's still a part of me that's heavily Kunderified; i've moved on [his last, horrible novel clarified all the problems i ever had with him and his characters], but somehow inherited or assimilated his way of looking at people. acute double-consciousness, internalized sexism, blah blah, for me, but there's something to take from that.
if i were going to write a novel, i'd like to write something exploring that from the other side, from a female perspective; something like the story of Helena, about being, or trying not to be, one of those disgusting fleshy silly women.
***
in real news, apparently i'm going to Italy with my parents over Thanksgiving. to Florence, specifically. there seem to be lots of museums and prettiness and things to do over there, so i'm happy, but i can't say i'm not a little surprised; my parents have been talking about taking some sort of trip for a long time and i never really believed they would. i've said this, that it's very important to them that they think of themselves as the class of people who can take off to Europe occasionally for vacation, a civilized vacation, you know, museums/food/beaches, even if they aren't really from that class. [this is why i got offended at my mother's vehement objection to me traveling this summer, incidentally.] but really, all right, i'm not in a position to judge what my parents do with their money; they've reached an age where they're coasting on the decisions they've already made, so let them do what they like.
emailing with Caitlin. recommended Sedmikrásky. i would much rather hear news from her than write her my news, and inevitably she would rather hear stories from me. i was hoping she would go back to Berlin, she was going to have a job at the hostel, but she didn't have any money for the ticket and now she's working at Urban Outfitters. i worry about her a little, she's even less responsible than i am.
she talks about some hole in our friendship that began in Berlin, but what i really think she means is that she's lost respect for me. we worry about these things, since neither of us are the sort of people to keep others around very long.
i got a lot of sleep last night for the first time in days, remember my eyes opening at 4, then 5:30, then 8, and finally getting up at 9:30, showering, and going to class. rain all weekend and i'm really getting quite worried about my roof, it's flat and there's nowhere for the water to go.
i watched Sedmikrásky and The Joke yesterday and the day before. Sedmikrásky was lovely, colorful and silly, with beautiful girls. The Joke was, really, not so great. nothing added to the book; all the revealing subplots were cut out, so the non-linear Kundera style became unnecessary and confusing. and there wasn't enough Jaroslav in it, and Helena wasn't the way she should have been. all the same, the scene where he says he doesn't love her is very, very important, and the concept of Helena is very important [in my collection of archetypes, i mean]. i remember reading an article once about the best misogynistic books, and after just reading the headline i thought "well, Kundera, naturally," and of course The Joke was mentioned, with a sentence like "this is very cruel stuff, but a fascinating novel".
probably there's some mention of Kundera in every second entry i write. there's still a part of me that's heavily Kunderified; i've moved on [his last, horrible novel clarified all the problems i ever had with him and his characters], but somehow inherited or assimilated his way of looking at people. acute double-consciousness, internalized sexism, blah blah, for me, but there's something to take from that.
if i were going to write a novel, i'd like to write something exploring that from the other side, from a female perspective; something like the story of Helena, about being, or trying not to be, one of those disgusting fleshy silly women.
***
in real news, apparently i'm going to Italy with my parents over Thanksgiving. to Florence, specifically. there seem to be lots of museums and prettiness and things to do over there, so i'm happy, but i can't say i'm not a little surprised; my parents have been talking about taking some sort of trip for a long time and i never really believed they would. i've said this, that it's very important to them that they think of themselves as the class of people who can take off to Europe occasionally for vacation, a civilized vacation, you know, museums/food/beaches, even if they aren't really from that class. [this is why i got offended at my mother's vehement objection to me traveling this summer, incidentally.] but really, all right, i'm not in a position to judge what my parents do with their money; they've reached an age where they're coasting on the decisions they've already made, so let them do what they like.
emailing with Caitlin. recommended Sedmikrásky. i would much rather hear news from her than write her my news, and inevitably she would rather hear stories from me. i was hoping she would go back to Berlin, she was going to have a job at the hostel, but she didn't have any money for the ticket and now she's working at Urban Outfitters. i worry about her a little, she's even less responsible than i am.
she talks about some hole in our friendship that began in Berlin, but what i really think she means is that she's lost respect for me. we worry about these things, since neither of us are the sort of people to keep others around very long.